#yatesevent011

it was safe to say that saffie could drive—she just couldn’t drive drive. not for lack of skill, but simply for lack of effort. she’d grown up surrounded by car services, public transit, and—once at yates and far from the city—the reliable and often strange uber or lyft. there was no reason for her to get behind the wheel, her license purely existing as a form of identification. all of that aside, however, she stood just outside of the villa, one hand resting on the handlebar of a sleek little vespa scooter. she studied it with a casual eye, gaze moving over the bits and pieces as she ventured to guess how to drive it. it couldn’t be that difficult. it definitely wasn’t as intimidating as a car—two handles, two break levers, no pedals. still, she’d hesitated to hop right on, as badly as she wanted to get out of the villa. hearing someone exit the front doors, her head turned, legs following and bringing her to shift on the heels of her white ankle boots. “hey,” saf called out, head tilting to one side a touch, “let’s say i didn’t know how to drive one of these, but really needed to get out of the house. hypothetically. would you happen to know? hypothetically.” @yatesstarters​

Everything looks like a painting around her, which is typical for Tuscany, but the state of Jade’s mind has everything melting like a distorted fabrication, a hazy daydream. She is in her underwear and oversized, billowing dress in front of a lake, high as a kite, and the sun is going down. Jade understands that she would most likely be better off having dinner with everyone else at the villa but she certainly didn’t anticipate her transcendence beyond sobriety that evening. She was floating and she wanted everyone around her to know. By these standards, this is confined to the lake and the grass and the sunset and her. Or so she thinks. A voice interrupts the humid air along with a footstep in the dirt. She hears someone ask what she’s doing but she’s already midriff deep. She turns around to meet the stranger and smiles. “Sheeeeesh,” Jade murmurs. “Just a river nymph trying to wash up around here, don’t mind me. Can’t a bitch get some privacy? Paint me like one of your Renaissance girls while you’re at it.” @yatesstarters​

a long pair of legs emerged from the villa’s lower-level wine cellar, bare fee almost silently padding back up the staircase. a little further up were a pair of hands clasping a rather large wine bottle. it contained a burgundy liquid and was adorned with a minimalistic label that all but disappeared as the girl turned it in her grasp. “so,” annie called as she strode into the kitchen, revealing her little black dress-clad frame and a flash of flaxen blonde strands. her voice, drawn out in a way meant to encourage anticipation, carried through the large space, eager to meet any welcoming ears. “i’m not calling myself a wine connoisseur of any sort, but i do have a pretty lengthy history with these bad boys.” at that she set the wine atop the kitchen island, leaning over so that her elbows too rested on it. “and this happens to be the best thing i could find down there. but, mind you, that makes it dangerous. the makings of an unpredictable evening.” she shot the other a smile, tapping the side of the glass with one fingertip. “care to share? call it a pre-game.” @yatesstarters​​

Hazy and honey-eyed, she stares at the twinkling lights like it’s the moment before she falls asleep. Ignoring the vague nausea in her stomach, she tries to find patterns in the lights as if they’re constellations, but to no avail. Cleo thinks too hard about the nausea in her stomach and how this still isn’t stopping her from sipping her glass of pinot noir. Instead, she finds solace on the balcony, feeling awfully too much like a socialite to be at peace with herself. It was kind of like being back in New York, age fifteen at a gathering with her mother and one of her academic colleagues, pretending. The room is boudoir-like, some kind of sitting room in the villa that was thankfully away from the rest of whatever Yates shenanigans were happening down at the ballroom party. Was it karaoke or Eurodance-pop booming from the speakers? Regardless, it gives her a bit of a headache. Legs stretched out on the cushioned seat, she’s barely able to think about the physical impact of her legs breaking through the glass and her body falling before the door opens abruptly. I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony. “Jesus!” Cleo exclaims, individual hairs on her neck standing up in surprise. Her head whips around to the person in front of her. “Ever heard of knocking? I could’ve been… easily fucking someone. Committing a murder. Arson. Anything better than sedating myself, honestly. Luckily I’m just here for refuge. You need something?” @yatesstarters​